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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348722">"for zuko?"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights/pseuds/nights'>nights</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barista Sokka (Avatar), Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Zuko (Avatar), Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, this is an ode to autumn in seattle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:27:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights/pseuds/nights</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, finally he gets to the front, pulls out his punch card, and looks up to the barista who — Zuko almost drops his punch card. He’s got a winning customer-service smile on, cheekbones that make Zuko’s fingers go weak, hair that wisps out from under a university-branded baseball cap.</p><p>“What can I get for you?” the barista asks, and Zuko can’t think of anything other than: <em>I look like a drowned rat, dear god.</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>480</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>"for zuko?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is for the @zukkanet (on tumblr) Event 02: Fall.</p><p>I wrote this as a companion to Chey's (@siffuhotman) artwork that she did for the same event, a little coffee gif that I just love.</p><p>This is your basic coffeeshop AU, and not much else. Classic fic fluff, set in Seattle, because I miss my home.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Drip coffee for Zuko?”</p><p class="p1">Zuko steps forward, grabbing the piping hot paper cup, throwing a nod to the barista. She’s a familiar face: big friendly eyes, cropped brown hair, a bright smile. It’s nice to come there in the mornings, especially a morning like this one, dreary and gray and drizzling.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks, Suki,” Zuko says, turning to get out of the way of another customer.</p><p class="p1">“Sure thing!”</p><p class="p1">He manages to find a free table and plops himself down. He <em>could</em> get a few more hours of sleep before his first class, but Zuko’s always been a morning person; he likes getting something done first thing, when he’s fresh, and the hours of classes haven’t started weighing on his productivity. Zuko unzips his backpack and slides out his laptop — it’s a little beat up at this point, going on four years of being dragged around campus — and his Epistemology paper blinks to life on the screen in front of him, mockingly unfinished.</p><p class="p1">Zuko sighs, scrolling to his email inbox instead. <em>Too early for that.</em> Speaking of — he takes a sip of his coffee, and relishes the bitter taste that means <em>caffeine. </em>He’s got a couple new emails: a notification from the department about registration deadlines for the next quarter, an email from his Ethics professor reminding the class about the readings he just posted (<em>more? </em>Zuko thinks, rolling his eyes), a bill notification from the gas company. Zuko checks the due date — not due for a while, but he scrawls a note down in his planner anwyays.</p><p class="p1">Before Zuko’s really aware, his coffee’s long gone and 10:45 rolls around, so he throws his laptop back in and pulls his hood up. The rain’s not too bad, nothing that will soak through his clothes, but enough to be annoying as Zuko walks to class. He’s damp when he slides into a seat at the back of the lecture hall, and spends all of his Human Physiology lecture scrolling through Twitter. It’s not like he’s going to need to know anything about human physiology after the final, anyways; he’s just taking it for his stupid bio requirement that he put off until the last minute.</p><p class="p1">Zuko likes his Ethics class most of all; he’d had the professor before, Dr. Jeong Jeong, in his lower division Intro to Ethics, and Dr. Jeong Jeong has exactly the kind of grumpy, no-nonsense teaching style that Zuko thrived in.</p><p class="p1">Despite that, Zuko still trudges into the library with exhaustion in his bones. <em>It’s the rain.</em> Zuko’s felt like a wet cat all day, and the black coffee that perked him up at 8:30am is well out of his system by 7:00pm.</p><p class="p1">He swings past the bathrooms — best to get that out of the way before he sets up camp for the evening — and is confronted with yellow tape stretched across the door and a sign propped up: OUT OF ORDER. <em>Fucking really?</em> Zuko thinks, sighing and turning back the way he came. <em>How hard is it to just use a bathroom properly. Ridiculous.</em></p><p class="p1">So, the library’s out. Student lounge closed at 6:00… Zuko turns toward the coffee shop, and hopes there isn’t an evening rush.</p><p class="p1">There is. It’s packed full of students, chattering and ordering, either typing furiously in a caffeine-induced finals frenzy or lazing around, convincing themselves they’re being productive. Zuko grumbles but gets in line, and desperately misses the sleepy quiet of the early morning.</p><p class="p1">Finally, <em>finally</em> he gets to the front, pulls out his punch card, and looks up to the barista who — Zuko almost drops his punch card. He’s got a winning customer-service smile on, cheekbones that make Zuko’s fingers go weak, hair that wisps out from under a university-branded baseball cap.</p><p class="p1">“What can I get for you?” the barista asks, and Zuko can’t think of anything other than <em>I look like a drowned rat, dear god. </em></p><p class="p1">“Hm, oh. Uhmm.” Zuko’s mind blanks for an infuriatingly long beat, and then he manages to remember the simplest coffee order known to mankind: “Drip coffee. Medium.”</p><p class="p1">The barista doesn’t seem to notice Zuko’s distress. “Alright, medium drip coffee, coming right up. House blend okay?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah.” <em>He’s — earrings. He’s wearing earrings.</em></p><p class="p1">“Okayyy,” he says, scribbling onto a paper cup, “That’ll be $2.25.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko shoves his card into the card reader in a haze, and nearly forgets the punch card. He remembers with a jolt, and holds it out toward Beautiful Barista.</p><p class="p1">“Um. Could you — my punch card,” Zuko blurts.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, sure! Here,” and the barista’s fingers <em>brush</em> Zuko’s as he takes the cardboard, “There you go.” He hands the stamped card back to Zuko, and Zuko prays to whatever’s got any cosmic power to speak of that he isn’t blushing like a maniac.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks,” he says quickly, shoving his cards back into his wallet, and is about to flee when the barista asks:</p><p class="p1">“Can I get a name? For the drink?” Beautiful Barista has a lilt of amusement in his voice.</p><p class="p1">“Zuko.”</p><p class="p1">“Unique name. I like it.” Beautiful Barista still has that cheeky customer-service smile, and Zuko wants to melt into the floor.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks,” Zuko manages to say weakly, and then he finally does flee to the other end of the counter, to wait with all the other impatient students.</p><p class="p1">It takes forever, but a guy with a beanie and hand tattoos slides the coffee onto the counter, and Zuko snatches it up. He tries and fails to not peek at Beautiful Barista, still manning the register, still giving the customer in front of him that easy smile, still beautiful.</p><p class="p1">But Zuko’s got a paper to write, so he slides into a blessedly free chair and gets to work. It’s a little rough, getting the words out; the coffee shop is considerably louder than the library, and eventually Zuko pulls out his earbuds to crank some classical and hopes that helps. He’s usually a punk rock kind of guy, but papers demanded Prokofiev.</p><p class="p1">It <em>does</em> help, the music, but Zuko can’t really hit his stride until a few hours in, when the throngs of undergraduates start to filter out, leaving only quiet groups of students and a few haggard professors that come, get their caffeine fix, then go.</p><p class="p1">The drip coffee is gone, and Zuko’s essay is nowhere close to finished, so he pulls out an earbud and turns to the girl next to him, who seems knee-deep in something political-sciencey.</p><p class="p1">“Can you watch my stuff for a second?” he asks quietly, and she nods, so Zuko grabs his wallet and looks toward the counter — <em>Fuck. He’s still there. </em></p><p class="p1">Zuko takes a steadying breath, and runs a hand through his hair. It dried all weird after the rain, he’s sure of it, but there’s not much that can be done, and Zuko does need another coffee, so that’s that. He approaches the counter and wills his voice to sound casual.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, still here, huh?” Beautiful Barista says. “What was your name again?”</p><p class="p1">“Hah, yeah. It’s Zuko.” It’s all Zuko can concentrate on, trying not to sound too nervous. He’s never been good at this kind of stuff.</p><p class="p1">“Right! Zuko.” The barista says it like he’s practicing each syllable. “I’m Sokka.” He points to his nametag.</p><p class="p1"><em>It was right there on his nametag the whole time, you idiot. </em>“Sokka. You, uhm. Have a nice name, too.” Zuko wants to ram his head into a brick wall, preferably a very thick one. <em>You sound like an idiot, you idiot.</em></p><p class="p1">“Thanks! So, need more caffeine, then?” He’s got another paper cup in his hand, ready to write down the order.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. Another drip coffee, please.”</p><p class="p1">With another exchange of the punch card, Sokka grins and says, “Coming right up.”</p><p class="p1">The shop is quiet, now, so Zuko returns to his seat while he waits, leaving one earbud out to listen for Beautiful Barista (Sokka, his beautiful name is Sokka) to call his order. Zuko flicks through his open tabs, trying to get back into the rhythm of his research. It takes a second to find the paper he was thinking of — 32 open tabs gets confusing — but he does, and then he loses himself in the mishmash of dense, academic language. After four years, Zuko’s kind of started to be able to understand it.</p><p class="p1">“Medium drip, for Zuko,” he hears right next to him; it startles Zuko out of his concentration. He was waiting for Sokka to yell it from across the shop, but there he is, setting the cup down next to Zuko’s mess of highlighted papers. Sokka’s got a playful glint in his eye, and he’s so close that Zuko’s line of sight is confronted with the way his apron sits snug around his hips. Zuko yanks out the other earbud and looks up into Sokka’s face.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks, I was — gonna come get it —”</p><p class="p1">“It’s a slow night,” Sokka says.</p><p class="p1">“Um. Thanks.” Zuko wraps his hand around the coffee, warm through the paper.</p><p class="p1">Sokka looks almost like he hesitates, then shifts on his feet and says, “Mind if I ask what you’re working on? You’ve been here for like, three hours.”</p><p class="p1">“Uhh.” Sokka’s looking at Zuko so earnestly, and Zuko kind of can’t believe he’s even making conversation. “Just a paper. It’s for, um, my Epistemology class.”</p><p class="p1">“Epistemology… sounds fancy.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko feels a flush rise in his cheeks. “Oh, not really.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Come get me if you need more coffee.” Sokka flashes another grin and goes back to the counter, and Zuko tries not to visibly swoon.</p><p class="p1">After that, it’s like the library doesn’t even exist. Zuko puts together a killer study playlist, and grits through the clamor of the coffee shop, and spends his hours there hoping for another brush with Sokka. He’s not quite as productive as he was, given that he keeps glancing up toward the counter, incessantly distracting himself — but it’s worth it, because it only takes a day for Sokka to learn his coffee order, and that makes Zuko feel unreasonably special.</p><p class="p1">Autumn deepens into winter as finals sneaks up on Zuko; he finds himself there more often, with the days becoming almost exclusively overcast or drizzling, a damp chill settling in that Zuko knows won’t lift until April, at the earliest. He grew up in it, so it’s not so bad, but there’s nothing that gets him through the dim late autumn like coffee — although Sokka is giving coffee a run for its money, with his easy smile and sharp eyes. Zuko thinks about those eyes all the time, how expressive they are, how warm they make him feel even when the sky is determined to keep the cold in Zuko’s bones.</p><p class="p1">He learns a few precious kernels of information about Sokka as he spends more time there: Sokka’s a mechanical engineering major, he doesn’t understand anything about Zuko’s philosophy classes, he got his helix pierced a month ago and it’s healing really well. Sokka’s inquisitive, and the probing questions about Zuko’s work would be irritating from anyone else, but with Sokka’s hopeful, interested face peering down at him, Zuko can’t say no.</p><p class="p1">It becomes kind of a thing, Sokka bringing him his drinks, so when the menu changes for the holidays and Zuko orders something different, Sokka sets it down with a chuckle.</p><p class="p1">“Pumpkin spiced chai tea latté?” Sokka asks, and Zuko gives him an embarrassed smile.</p><p class="p1">“It’s really tasty,” he explains, and Sokka looks endlessly amused.</p><p class="p1">“Just didn’t expect it from Mr. Drip Coffee.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m a multifaceted guy,” Zuko says, shrugging.</p><p class="p1">“Hm, sure. How’s the ethics stuff going?”</p><p class="p1">Zuko sighs, takes a sip of that sweet sugar-y goodness he really only treated himself to during finals.</p><p class="p1">“Not well. I have to write about an ethical dilemma from <em>my life</em>, and I’m not exactly running into moral issues all the time. Everything I can think of to write about sounds so… trivial.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s rough, buddy.” Sokka shrugs. “I dunno, maybe you need to put yourself into some more ethical dilemmas.”</p><p class="p1">“Where the hell am I supposed to find those?” Zuko sighs.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, don’t look at me, I’m not the philosophy major. I’m just the coffee guy.”</p><p class="p1"><em>The unbearably cute coffee guy, </em>Zuko thinks to himself, watches Sokka go back to the counter to joke with that tattooed coworker, and reluctantly turns back to his paper. <em>Come on, focus, Zuko. Get it together.</em></p><p class="p1">Zuko slogs through finals week — finally figures out something to write his stupid Ethics paper about, something about his fucked-up family that he knows Dr. Jeong Jeong will eat right up — but, while the ability to sleep more than a handful of hours a night is appreciated, it also means that Zuko has run out of excuses to hang around Sokka all evening.</p><p class="p1">He gets out of his last exam when the sun has already set, and Zuko’s ridiculous, really, he’s stupid and acting like a lovestruck high schooler, but he can’t resist going back to the coffee shop one last time.</p><p class="p1">But Sokka’s not there. Zuko tries to ignore the twist of disappointment in his stomach — <em>he’s just a barista, Zuko, he’s not your boyfriend, get it together</em> — and orders sadly.</p><p class="p1">He’s pathetic, is what he is, moping around the counter, waiting for that sugar-y drink he’s planning on nursing to ease his disappointment. Why is he having this reaction? Sokka’s just a harmless crush. It didn’t mean anything, and Sokka surely didn’t spare Zuko a second thought. Sokka had probably just had his last final earlier, he was probably already gone for break, why would he even say goodbye to Zuko, it was stupid of him to think —</p><p class="p1">“Pumpkin spiced chai tea latté for Zuko?” the tattooed barista calls. Zuko glumly picks up the cup, notices an out-of-the-ordinary scrawl on the side… a phone number.</p><p class="p1">He looks up at the tattooed guy in confusion, and he laughs.</p><p class="p1">“It’s not mine, don’t worry. That’s Sokka’s.”</p><p class="p1">Upon closer inspection, there’s Sokka’s name, with a little heart next to it. Zuko’s stomach flips, and his skin thrums with adrenaline. <em>Sokka’s number.</em></p><p class="p1">“Uhh —”</p><p class="p1">“He’s out sick. Wanted to make sure you got it before you left for break.” Tattooed Guy — Aang, from the nametag — winked, and Zuko suddenly needs to get out of there as fast as possible, before he squeals like a schoolgirl.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, sure, sounds good, thanks for the drink,” Zuko mumbles, scurrying out the door into the frigid December air.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Sokka’s number. He wanted to make sure I had his number.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Zuko keeps the empty coffee cup on his nightstand and stares at it, all evening. <em>He wanted to make sure I had his number.</em> His fingers hover over his phone’s keyboard, staring at the “New Message” screen like somehow, it’ll figure out what to say for him. Zuko figures it out himself, eventually.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>New Message: +1 (907) 213-8529</em>
</p><p class="p4">Hey, it’s Mr. Drip Coffee</p><p class="p4">aka Zuko</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He sends the second text in a nervous fit, second-guessing his first tongue-in-cheek message, wondering if Sokka would be too confused and not get his clumsy joke. <em>Why is this so hard, it’s just a text. </em>Zuko stares at the screen for a while, then puts his phone face-down on the nightstand. He’s not gonna be that guy that waits around for the response —</p><p class="p1">But then his phone buzzes and he snatches it up again, opening a new message.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>+1 (907) 213-8529</em>
</p><p class="p4">Hey, it’s Mr. Drip Coffee</p><p class="p4">aka Zuko</p><p class="p1">hey zuko :) sorry i couldn't give<br/>
you my # myself</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Zuko’s heart leaps into his throat, and immediately opens a different conversation. His mind has gone blank, and he needs to call in reinforcements.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"><span class="s1">✨</span> <em>the girls</em> <span class="s1">✨</span> <em> + zuzu </em> <span class="s1">🤮</span></p><p class="p4">So he responded</p><p class="p1"><em>Ty Lee</em><br/>
omg he did???? what did you<br/>
say what did you say</p><p class="p1"><em>Azula</em><br/>
I’m muting this conversation.</p><p class="p1"><em>Mai</em><br/>
of course he responded, he gave<br/>
you his number didn’t he?</p><p class="p4">I know that but still!</p><p class="p1"><em>Ty Lee</em><br/>
send screenshots!!!!!!</p><p class="p4">I’m not gonna do that</p><p class="p1"><em>Ty Lee</em><br/>
please <span class="s1">🥺</span></p><p class="p1">zuko if you want our help you’re<br/>
gonna have to give us the info</p><p class="p4">
  <em>Attachment: 1 Photo</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>Mai</em><br/>
“Mr. Drip Coffee”?</p><p class="p4">It’s an inside joke</p><p class="p1"><em>Mai</em><br/>
Ew</p><p class="p1">Just ask him out, he’s clearly into<br/>
you so why beat around the bush<br/>
about it</p><p class="p1"><em>Ty Lee</em><br/>
no you gotta flirt a little!</p><p class="p1">tell him you missed seeing him<br/>
at the coffee shop</p><p class="p1">this is so exciting</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>+1 (907) 213-8529</em>
</p><p class="p4">Hey, it’s Mr. Drip Coffee</p><p class="p4">aka Zuko</p><p class="p1">hey zuko :) sorry i couldn't give<br/>
you my # myself</p><p class="p4">I missed seeing you the other<br/>
day, Aang said you had to call<br/>
out sick?</p><p class="p1">aw, you missed me?</p><p class="p1">i came down w/ a wicked finals-<br/>
induced cold</p><p class="p4">I hope you feel better soon!</p><p class="p4">Are you all done with finals?</p><p class="p1">yeah i had my last one on wed,<br/>
you?</p><p class="p4">Just finished today</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"><span class="s1">✨</span> <em>the girls</em> <span class="s1">✨</span> <em> + zuzu </em> <span class="s1">🤮</span></p><p class="p4">
  <em>Attachment: 1 Photo</em>
</p><p class="p4">What do I say now? Idk what<br/>
to say next</p><p class="p1"><em>Mai</em><br/>
Ask him if he’s still in town</p><p class="p1"><em>Ty Lee</em><br/>
omg if he’s sick maybe u can<br/>
bring him some soup</p><p class="p1">or something</p><p class="p4">No way what if I freak him out</p><p class="p4">And scare him off</p><p class="p1"><em>Ty Lee</em><br/>
i think it would be cute</p><p class="p1"><em>Mai</em><br/>
For once I agree with Zuko</p><p class="p4">Thank you Mai</p><p class="p1"><em>Ty Lee</em><br/>
you guys are no fun</p><p class="p1"><em>Mai</em><br/>
Just ask him out idiot</p><p class="p4">Ok fine fine</p><p class="p1"><em>Ty Lee</em><br/>
omg omg omg!!!!</p>
<hr/><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>+1 (907) 213-8529</em>
</p><p class="p4">Do you wanna hang out<br/>
sometime?</p><p class="p4">Maybe after break?</p><p class="p1">yeah i'm down :)</p><p class="p1">you should text me when you<br/>
get back</p><p class="p1">or before, idk</p><p class="p4">Ok, sounds good</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Zuko debates throwing an emoji in at the end of the message, but decides on leaving it aloof and emoji-less. He begrudgingly provides photographic evidence to Ty Lee, if only to get her to stop his phone from buzzing with each new text message.</p><p class="p1">He manages to work up the courage to send Sokka a few texts over the break — he can’t have Sokka thinking he doesn’t want to talk to him, when Sokka specifically requested it — and learns that Sokka’s from Alaska, has a sister Sokka describes as “annoying”, and that his grandmother (“Gran-Gran”, to Sokka) makes the best akutaq, a sort of ice cream that Sokka adores.</p><p class="p1">The autumn leaves have fully evaporated by the time the winter holidays are over, leaving just a damp cold that has Zuko buying coffee just to warm his hands with. Zuko counts down the days, because they made plans, for the first Saturday back, and it’s the best thing in his life after a break filled with family bickering and heartache. Sure, he’s living on his own now, but he can’t quite bring himself to cut contact, not when Azula hasn’t yet given up hope that one day their father will magically be a different man.</p><p class="p1">Zuko wakes up on Saturday morning lit with energy. It’s no use to try to go back to sleep, and he finds himself fussing over what to wear much longer than strictly necessary; should he wear a button-down? He looks good in it, but it’s a little formal. Should he wear his raincoat, or something a little nicer? He goes back and forth, and trying to hit upon something that would make him look effortlessly cool — ironic, considering how much effort he was putting into it.</p><p class="p1">He shows up to their agreed-upon meeting place (the corner of 14th Avenue and East Prospect Street) wearing a black denim jacket over his hoodie, trusty Docs on his feet. The sky is gray, and heavy with the threat of rain, and Zuko’s breath puffs up in little clouds. He sticks his hands in his pockets, curling them into fists to try to warm his numb fingers. It’s quiet, the kind of sleepy day that any sane person would take advantage of to stay in where it’s warm, but Zuko likes the peace. The park is almost deserted, from the looks of it, leaving Zuko alone with the pine trees and the moss.</p><p class="p1">“Pumpkin spiced chai tea latté for Zuko?”</p><p class="p1">Zuko turns, and Sokka’s got a wide grin on his face and two cups of coffee in his hands. It’s surreal, watching him walk up to Zuko and hand him the coffee, and then Zuko’s hand is wrapped around Sokka’s, around that cup, and Zuko doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do next.</p><p class="p1">“I thought you might want something warm.” Sokka takes a sip of his own drink. “It’s fucking cold today.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” Zuko says dumbly — <em>pull yourself together. It’s a fucking coffee, he works at a coffeeshop.</em></p><p class="p1">“Alright, let’s go see if the ducks are stupid enough to be out today, too.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko falls into step beside Sokka, making their way toward the lily ponds that were the official purpose of their get-together. The coffee <em>is </em>welcome, toasty warm on his cold fingers, and Zuko realizes he hasn’t thanked Sokka yet.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, thanks for the coffee.”</p><p class="p1">“No problem.” Sokka peeks at Zuko, and Zuko feels warm all over, despite the cold air.</p><p class="p1">“You know, I just realized — I don’t actually know your coffee order.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka’s eyes light up and he laughs. “Mocha with an extra shot of espresso.”</p><p class="p1">“Mocha, huh. You have a sweet tooth?”</p><p class="p1">“A little, maybe. Maybe a lot. Oh, no ducks.”</p><p class="p1">They’re standing in front of the lily pond, and its empty, devoid of quacking.</p><p class="p1">“Well.” Zuko looks at his coffee cup and hopes he doesn’t sound like too much of a sap. “That’s okay. You’re here, so.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka watches Zuko over the lip of his coffee as he takes another sip of his mocha.</p><p class="p1">“And you got a free coffee out of this.” Sokka’s smiling, and the way the smile pulls dimples into Sokka’s cheeks and makes his eyes crinkle up at the corners is all the sunshine Zuko needs.</p><p class="p1">Zuko chuckles. “I did get a free coffee. You know, you’re kind of becoming my caffeine plug, in a way.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, good. I’m your guy if you need a fix, hit me up whenever.”</p><p class="p1">“I think I might.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I…” Zuko falters. “I’d like to hang out with you more. Outside of like. Buying coffee from you.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s what I gave you my number for. Or — what Aang gave you my number for. Hey, do you wanna check the other pond?”</p><p class="p1">“Um. Sure.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka’s hand swings at his side, the hand not holding coffee, and Zuko desperately wants to grab it, but he thinks that if Sokka pulled his hand away he might have to flee the park altogether.</p><p class="p1">They walk past a large abstract sculpture, a huge black circle, and Sokka asks lightly, “What classes do you have this quarter?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m finishing up my major electives, working on my capstone. Kind of just more of the same. Boring papers.”</p><p class="p1">“I can’t believe you write all those papers. I could never.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, I could never do what you do. You’re doing like, rocket science.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka laughs. “It’s not rocket science, it’s just mech-e.”</p><p class="p1">“Basically rocket science.”</p><p class="p1">There’s no ducks at the other pond, either, so Sokka sighs and sits on the concrete rim. “Sorry. I guess it’s too cold for them.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko sits, setting his cup to the side. “I’m just… happy you texted back.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka looks at him, nose pink from the cold. “Well, yeah. Why would I make Aang hit on you for me if I didn’t want you to text me?”</p><p class="p1">Zuko feels a flush creep into his cheeks. Sokka keeps smiling hopefully at him, like he’s waiting for Zuko to do something — but Zuko doesn’t know what, exactly, Sokka wants him to do.</p><p class="p1">“That’s — ahem.” Zuko grabs his coffee again, so he has something to do with his nervous hands.</p><p class="p1">“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” And <em>that</em> doesn’t do anything to help Zuko’s flush.</p><p class="p1">Zuko looks back to Sokka, and he’s got his palm splayed on the concrete between them, so Zuko lays his hand over Sokka’s.</p><p class="p1">“Christ, your hands are cold,” Sokka says, taking Zuko’s hand in both of his, scooting closer to bring it up to his face. Sokka puffs hot breath over Zuko’s fingers, and Zuko’s heart just about stops.</p><p class="p1">“Bad circulation,” Zuko says softly, and sets down his cup so that Sokka can grab the other one, too, because he just wants Sokka to keep smiling and keep holding his hand like that and keep making his numb fingers tingle.</p><p class="p1">Sokka’s hands are startlingly warm compared to the air around them, and it really is nice to have his fingers warmed up. Zuko notices that Sokka’s got a few callouses on his hands, and he rubs the pad of his thumb over them. It’s like unwrapping a present, each new piece of information Zuko learns about him; he hopes that Sokka will let him keep learning.</p><p class="p1">Zuko’s hands are warmed, now, so he takes a chance and cups Sokka’s face, fingers brushing over the chilly tips of Sokka’s ears. Sokka opens his mouth, as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out, and the moment hangs, crystalline. Zuko barely notices himself lean closer — it’s like he’s pulled by gravity — and closes the distance, pressing his lips into Sokka’s. Thankfully, in a miracle, Sokka doesn’t pull away.</p><p class="p1">It’s a shaking brush at first, Zuko can’t really believe it’s happening, before Sokka presses into the kiss in a <em>yes, please,</em> his hands coming up to circle Zuko’s wrists. Zuko’s heart is racing and he can’t really breathe, so he pulls back and tries to keep his breathing steady.</p><p class="p1">Sokka laughs, breathless too, and that breaks all the tightly-strung tension Zuko didn’t know he was carrying. Zuko finds himself laughing, too, at nothing, at the fact that he got to kiss Sokka, at the sheer unlikelihood of having met Sokka in the first place.</p><p class="p1">“You taste like pumpkin spiced chai tea latté,” Sokka says, leaning his forehead into Zuko’s and grinning.</p><p class="p1">“That’s your fault,” Zuko replies, and Sokka kisses him again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading, guys! Leave a comment if you'd like, and I'd love for any of y'all to come talk to me on tumblr too @quenchyest!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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